Chapter 230
Chapter 230
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 230
Chapter Title: A Meeting Not by Chance (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Once his business trip was approved, Oliver used a portal magic aid device to travel from the Magic Tower straight to the Outpost.
The Outpost was a city located on the border between Firstland and Northland. It had once served as a key military stronghold for launching attacks into Northland.
Of course, now that Northland had been incorporated into the kingdom, its role had shifted to that of a city—a vital transit point and processing hub for the ore minerals coming from Northland.
Thanks to that, the Outpost brimmed with more vitality than any city Oliver had seen, aside from Landa itself.
It was lively enough that the Magic Tower had even opened a branch there.
The moment Oliver arrived via portal, he received guidance from the local Magic Tower branch on how to reach the research area.
'To get to Mountain Face, you'll need to take the train from here to Holland first. It's the closest thing to a city in northeastern Northland, but after that, there's no proper transportation infrastructure. You'll have to arrange your own ride.'
Arrange his own ride... For Oliver, who had never done anything like that before, it was quite a headache.
Especially since Kevin had warned him that there were plenty of people in the kingdom looking to scam outsiders.
Luckily, the branch magician offered Oliver some help.
'Take this. It's a letter of introduction. Head to the Hall family—they're local notables—and show them this. They'll hook you up with a truck or something. The family head's in poor health, so his daughter will probably greet you. She's got a nasty temper, so watch yourself.'
It was thoughtful consideration, especially considering the man didn't seem particularly thrilled to see Oliver.
Perhaps he was the type who separated personal feelings from his duties and gave his all to the job regardless. An attitude worth respecting, either way.
He even offered advice like Kevin's, warning Oliver to beware of highway robbers, con artists, thugs, and wild beasts.
Oliver thanked him profusely, promised to keep the advice in mind, and boarded the train.
'...And this is how we meet.'
Oliver thought as he gazed out the window, his reminiscing at an end.
He had heard Northland was crawling with bandits, but he never dreamed he'd run into some less than an hour after boarding the train.
Using the black magician's sight, Oliver scanned the number of bandits around the train.
Roughly twenty of them, all riding illegally modified cars and motorcycles.
Their engines were over-tuned to an excessive degree—the mana density and flow were not just strong, but dangerously unstable.
They could blow up at any moment. Even if they didn't, they weren't built to last.
Probably meant for a one-time chase to catch up to the train.
"Eek...! What kind of insane vehicle can keep pace with a train?"
A passenger muttered just then, clutching his luggage bag to his chest with anxious emotion.
And he wasn't the only one getting nervous.
Everyone in Oliver's car was on edge.
It was only natural, really. Most passengers were civilians. Facing a group of armed thugs targeting them was terrifying on a primal level.
Not everyone was paralyzed by fear, though.
A man who looked like a father was soothing two children—a boy and a girl—who seemed to be his kids.
"D-Don't worry. There are guards on this train to protect us. It'll be fine. They've already sent the distress signal. Everything's okay, everything's okay."
It wasn't baseless reassurance.
The train did have mercenaries hired to protect passengers and cargo. Even now, they were firing guns from atop the train, doing their best to fend off the bandits.
They'd launched a flare into the sky earlier to call for nearby military aid.
Still, Oliver couldn't view the situation optimistically.
It wasn't that the train guards were incompetent, but the twenty bandits relentlessly pursuing them were no pushovers either.
All of them had impressive life force, and six were mana users.
Especially the double-headed axe wielder riding a modded vehicle alongside Oliver's car—he stood out the most.
Even as his vehicle hurtled along at breakneck speed, he stood tall in the back seat, bellowing at the train to stop.
He infused his voice with mana, making it cut clearly through the gunfire.
"Last warning! Stop! If you don't, you'll see blood!"
The train didn't stop. Instead, a guard on top answered with gunfire.
Surprisingly, the axe man swung his hefty blade sideways, not just deflecting the bullets but sending them ricocheting back at the shooter.
A short scream rang out from the roof as one mercenary tumbled off, hit by his own shots.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Urgent footsteps pounded across the train's roof. The guards had realized the axe man's threat and were converging for focused fire.
But it was too late.
The moment he deflected the bullets, the axe man crouched into a leaping stance, compressed the mana inside him, and exploded it outward in a massive jump—straight onto the train roof.
Even though both vehicle and train were racing at full speed.
The passengers inside gasped in horror at the sight.
Bang—!!
The roof dented slightly under the axe man's heavy weight and force.
With one bandit now aboard, the passengers' anxiety spiked; they clung to each other.
Some hoped the guards would hold him off, but Oliver—watching the rooftop battle through his black magician's sight—knew better.
He couldn't see the fight in detail, but life force and emotions gave him a clear picture.
Regrettably, the axe man dominated the fight on the roof.
He burned his overflowing mana to amp up his physical prowess, then charged bull-like, overwhelming nearly five guards.
Their morale had already crumbled; it was just a question of how long they could resist, not if they could win.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, a new cluster of emotions appeared in the distance.
No one had to tell Oliver—these were reinforcements for the train bandits.
Proof came in the massive pile of timber blocking the tracks ahead.
It wasn't enough to derail the train outright, but the smoking, burning wood pile was plenty threatening enough to force a stop.
As expected, the sudden obstacle made the train screech to a halt, sending everyone lurching forward.
Everyone except Oliver.
For self-defense, he'd brought Duncan's tonfas and hooked one nearby to steady himself.
Screeeeech—Bang!!!
The rails screamed from forced friction, and with that noise, the ceiling caved in.
Two mangled corpses—torn apart like they'd been mauled by beasts—crashed down, along with the axe man who had trampled them like doormats.
Covered in blood, the axe man grinned ferociously.
"Hahaha!! You weak little lambs dare to...!"
Amid his genuine glee, Oliver glimpsed his hatred, rage, and resentment.
At least he didn't seem interested in the passengers. But one little kid—the one who'd been talking to his father earlier—burst into tears at the sight of the gore-soaked man and bodies.
The axe man's head snapped toward the crying.
The father hugged his child, pleading for mercy, but the blood-mad bandit ignored him, gathering mana as he raised his axe to swing.
"Kyahaha...!"
He laughed, then—thunk! A dull impact, and his eyes bulged wide.
Oliver, from behind, had driven the tonfa's handle into the back of his head.
The tip wasn't blunt—it was pointed, piercing clean through in one go.
The bandit collapsed in a heap. Oliver yanked the tonfa free from his skull and turned to the father holding his crying child.
"Are you alright?"
Bang!
As the train ground to a halt, the twenty pursuing bandits and the ten who had been waiting ahead poured inside.
They kicked down doors, fired shots into ceilings, swung knives and hammers to intimidate passengers, and looted anything valuable—jewelry, bags, whatever could fetch coin.
"Hand over your rings! Rings! That necklace too!!"
"Wanna die?! Give me that bag! Now!"
Punctuated by sporadic gunfire.
The people cowered like sheep, helpless.
Oliver's car was no exception. The difference? Before the bandit could even fire, Oliver hurled a double-headed axe into his face, sending him tumbling to the floor.
Scrape, scrape.
The moment the axe hit, Oliver wiped the brain matter and blood from his tonfa handle on the first axe man's clothes.
The other passengers in the car watched, barely breathing.
It was terrifying, but a different kind of terror—not the raw fear of bandits or killers, but something utterly alien.
"Ah, all clean now."
Oliver checked the tonfa handle, stood, and walked forward casually.
No grand reason.
He hadn't planned to get involved, but things had snowballed, and since he was in it now, better to see it through.
Simple as that.
Oliver opened the door to the next car.
Some passengers had fled through back doors or broken windows to escape the bandits. Weaker women and children, pushed to the rear, fell prey.
An old woman lay bleeding—beaten for resisting or trampled in the chaos.
Oliver locked eyes with a train bandit rummaging through her for valuables.
"...Heh."
The bearded thug chuckled, raising his gun barrel. He squeezed the trig—
—Whack!!
Oliver flung the tonfa like an axe, smashing the man's skull.
The mana-infused steel tonfa flew faster than its weight suggested, pulverizing the bandit's head.
Like scooping out one side of a pudding with a spoon.
It happened in a flash. Two other bandits searching bodies and bags nearby went, "Huh? What?" in confusion.
Oliver moved instantly, using seats as footholds for blinding speed.
Crack-bam-smack!!
Boosting his body with stored mana, Oliver closed the gap, retrieved the tonfa, and bashed the bandits dead with dual swings.
One punch with the tonfa-padded fist caved in a chest; the other whipped like a flail to shatter a temple.
Corpse Doll—a technique learned directly from Duncan. First time using it in real combat, so his movements were a bit clumsy.
'Still, good call learning it. A quarterstaff would've been awkward in this tight space. Bare hands? No thanks.'
Two bandits down in one breath.
Perfect timing—a new bandit from the front car poked his head in. Built like a lion, with a paunch mixed into slabs of muscle.
"Hey, quit playing around and come o—"
He froze mid-sentence at the sight of his dead comrades and Oliver.
Brain short-circuiting from the unexpected.
Oliver hurled a tonfa, embedding it in the man's chest and shoulder.
No black magic allowed in his Magic Tower employee guise, and only pure mana spells besides. Speed and no hesitation were key.
His cover as Xenon was known to use pure mana magic—any other spell would draw unwanted eyes.
Recalling that, Oliver eyed the brute ahead.
Unlike the last two, this one endured the pain, rallied his mana, and readied for battle.
"You little rat...!"
Impressive willpower despite the agony. Oliver reached out in admiration, yanking the mana thread linked to the tonfa.
He kept the chain's tension but compressed it—pulling the tonfa back with his strength, dragging the brute along.
Like reeling in a fish on a hook.
"Gaaaargh!!!"
The tonfa tore through flesh and bone, wringing screams from the brute.
Oliver wrenched it free with a harder tug and smashed the tonfa down on the man's head, pulping it.
Plenty more foes to handle.
"Let's see..."
Oliver muttered, scanning approaching bandits with his black magician's sight.
Taking down the train bandits proved easier than expected.
As a Magic Tower employee, black magic was off-limits, and only pure mana spells were allowed.
But his black magician's sight let him preempt positions and emotions, tailoring responses to each foe's mindset. That was enough.
Ambush the overconfident with a blitz one-shot. For the stunned and rigid, hurl tonfas or nearby objects to subdue easily.
The train's narrow confines and hiding spots amplified the effect.
Proving it, Oliver strolled to the front car like it was a walk in the park, dropping twenty of the thirty bandits before stepping out to face those shifting cargo crates.
"What kind of monster are you...?"
A mustached man—the bandit leader, by the look of him—muttered from behind a hostage.
Despite his dozen-plus underlings, terror gripped him.
Oliver found it odd, but not really. His sleeves and pant legs were splattered grotesquely with blood from the car.
The tonfas' lethality was excessive.
Oliver, new to the weapons, didn't realize.
"Move a muscle, and I'll slit this woman's throat like a pig! Stay put!"
The mustached boss bellowed his threat.
Oliver froze instinctively at the obvious demand.
Meanwhile, other bandits crept closer, forgoing flight to avenge their comrades.
Still standing still as ordered, Oliver voiced a sudden question.
"...But what does her being a hostage have to do with me not moving?"
Not malice—just pure curiosity. All the more chilling for it.
The flustered boss pressed his knife to the hostage's throat again, threatening Oliver to stay—but in that split second, Oliver checked his psyche and slew the two approaching bandits.
Whipping tonfas like flails into temples and jaws.
Crunch—! The hulks crumpled.
Oliver looked ahead. As expected, the boss couldn't kill the hostage. He was deep in fear now, intensified by the fresh kills.
To him, she was his sole shield—not something to discard lightly.
Of course, he might call that bluff...
'Eh, their loss.'
Oliver regripped his tonfa, poised to throw.
Aim: mustache boss's head. Secure the hostage's safety. Seemed fair for strangers.
Just as Oliver reared back, something burst from the boss's face.
A passenger fleeing through the crowd had snuck behind and stabbed through the back of his skull with a knife. A mere 20cm dagger, but perfect for drilling from nape to forehead.
"Kyaaaaah!!!!"
The hostage woman screamed at the sight, as the mustached man's body slumped.
And there, behind him, was the ambusher.
An unfamiliar face. But Oliver knew him.
One of the Kell Liberation Army's commanders—the Willeth who had raided Landa's prison.